June 2012
65 posts
“What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an...”
– Vincent van Gogh (via wildhorsescouldntdragmeaway)
“I felt, that night, on that stage, under that skull, incredibly close to...”
– Jonathan Safran Foer (via freins)
“Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the...”
– T.S. Eliot, from “East Coker” from Four Quartets (via awritersruminations)
“Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the...”
– Vladimir Nabokov (via siftingflour)
“No one tires of dreaming, because dreaming is forgetting, and forgetting doesn’t...”
– Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via waitingforteaagain)
“I know nothing and my heart aches.”
– Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via whitemarch)
“And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it...”
– Anais Nin (via seabois)
“And then there’s the sickness I feel from looking at legs I can’t touch, or at...”
– Markus Zusak, Fighting Ruben Wolfe (via waitingforteaagain)
“I want to love you…
but only the terrible
would bring us close, the mercy of...”
– Pier Giorgio Di Cicco, from The Household Gods (via flyingodiva)
“Often when I imagine you
your wholeness cascades into many shapes.
You run...”
– Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours I (via sol-psych)
“Poor boy, there is no hope for you. I have discovered your great wound; this...”
– Franz Kafka (via waitingforteaagain)
“But I don’t want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want...”
– Huxley, Brave New World (via cluelessfashionistaa)
3 tags
“‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.”
– Tennyson, “In Memoriam A.H.H.”
May 2012
73 posts
“Hard dreams. The moment at which you recognize that your own death lies in wait...”
– Ron Silliman, from “You” (via awritersruminations)
confusionis:
(I don’t know what to do about this habit of writing about the living, although to be perfectly honest I’ve long since ceased thinking it was a problem because of course I write about them as they live inside me, rather than as they really are.) Stanislav Lvovsky
“Reckless and random the cars race and roar and hunt us to death like blood...”
– Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via awritersruminations)
“Whatever I looked at was alive, everything had a voice,
but I never found out...”
– Anna Akhmatova, from “Fragment, 1959,” trans. Stephen Berg (via proustitute) 